One of the funniest videos i have ever seen. I first saw it a few years ago, and to this day it still makes me actually LOL. Thanks Liam for re-surfacing it.
Amazing…. and in the Riff!!!
Today is pretty much the first day that i have really missed the Btown since my move. I’m sure there will be many other days like this, because despite what i may say… deep down i love my home town.
I think today i realised that shit has officially got real… I have a job here, i have been steadily paying rent for several weeks, I buy my own toothpaste and toilet paper, and i resort to having toast for dinner more often than i should. PLUS, i have to actually GO BACK home for Christmas… as in fly there… as in not actually already being there.
I don’t really know the point in your life when the home you grew up in is no longer the place you call home. I don’t think that has happened for me yet… but i think it will be a bit of a scary day when i realise i have reached that point. Then, and only then, will i really consider myself a real, proper adult.
I miss my brother
I miss Liam
I miss pre-dranking
I miss the tweeps
I miss being able to say “cunt” multiple times in one sentence and no one even realising you have done so.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Melbourne, i’m just particularly nostalgic today for some reason. Maybe its the onset of the festive season.
2148 fo lyf cunts.
Packing.
I fucking hate it.
Not only is it a bitch for all the obvious reasons… like the exessive taping of boxes, sorting of clothes, and many many bags of crap that has already filled the bin the day after bin emptying night.
But it also means you find a whole bunch of sentimental things that make you question the whole act of moving in the first place. Photos of friends from when we were in high school, the dress i wore to my 21st, old band shirts… the list goes on. Its just a big soppy slap in the face that makes me think this decision I have been planning for years is going to be the biggest mistake I have made in my whole life.
And then i remember that i died my hair red in Year 6 for a crazy hair day, which lead to pink hair for the entire duration of 2001. That my friend, was the biggest mistake I have made in my whole life.
The Minutes podcasts have rekindled my love for Patience Hodgson big time…. and The Grates in general.
I’ll never forget when she exclaimed that Liam and I were the bride and groom of the wedding cake that is the fucked up standing levels of The Forum.
Needless to say, we lost our shit like 13 year old school girls at a Cody Simpson concert.
She’s like your drunk aunty with a secret killer voice. Can’t help but love her, just have to turn a blind eye to the god references.
Post Travelling Woes
So this is my first ever blog entry.. to any form of blog type media-thing. I apologise now for my lack of correct spelling.
So as alot of you are probably aware that i recently returned from a big, exciting, coming-of-age-esque, european travel. Now i’m not going to bore you with the ins and outs of how good it was. Which ofcourse it was. But i am going to enlighten you on the shittest thing that awaited me on my return.
Now i could rattle of a large list of downsides, but i wont. The one thing that has yet to stop irriating me since my arrival is this…….
Having to move back in with my parents.
Yea ok, so probably doesn’t sound that bad.. but if you knew my parents, then you’d understand. My friend Liam could not have hit the nail on the head any better when it comes to my maternal and paternal figures… L: “No offense, but your parents are secretly Asian”.
Here is a list of evidence to prove this point:
1) Within 2 hours of arriving back in the country, still in the car on the way back to sunny Blactown, my parents think this is the most oppertune time to raise the question of my career prospects and how i plan to get a job and support myself.
Really? This is the best time to be asking me this? You think that right now, when i’m sweaty, tired, and in the same clothes i have been wearing for the last 30 hours, is the best time to be asking me how i’m going to distribute my CV for optimum impact.
Fuck. Off.
2) When finally arriving back to number 72, all i wanted was a shower and my bed. After my mum saying, “oh i know you must be so exhausted”, she continued to explain to me the nothingness that had happened in thier lives since the day i left. She spent 10 whole minutes alone going on about the trip to the butcher they had the previous day. Seriously.
3) After finally tearing myself away from the riveting conversation, i told them that i was going to bed (at approx 8am), but was going to get up about 3pm to elimate jet lag.
3:08pm…. i’m not out of bed. Dad takes it upon himself to knock on my door to inform me of this. Yeah, ok, fine. Thanks Dad.. that is nice of you.. but i now retract my statement and just want to fucking sleep. But no… Dad continued to knock, untill i got out of bed, opened the door, and he told me not to be so rude and that he was trying to do me a favour.
Whats worse is that he then proceded to sit on the end of my bed and start asking me questions. So there is me lying there, sheet over face, groaning one word answers… then mum comes in to join the party.
What. The. Fuck.
I could go on. Lorrrd i could go on for days. But i’ll save you the pain.
I’m not an awful daughter, i swear to you i’m not.
"As a lifetime spectacles wearer, I’m offended at the idea of them being used ironically or aesthetically. So listen up, glassholes: you and your fashion cronies just back away from our optometric territory, or feel the wrath of our cleaning spray in your pretty faces"
— Justin Heazlewood
